Greyhound is built for speed

Greyhound is an old-fashioned movie and I mean that in the best sense of the term. In another lifetime it might have been an MGM movie turned out in the early Fifties with maybe Robert Taylor or Robert Montgomery in the leading role. Instead there is Tom Hanks, the closest thing we have to an old school movie star, doing sterling service to a script which he co-wrote.

The film is based on the novel, The Good Shepherd by C.S. Forester, and it focuses on one of the less heralded parts of the Second World War, the Battle of the Atlantic. Millions of tonnes of food, weapons, and supplies came to Britain across the Atlantic in convoys of merchant ships as a vital lifeline in 1942. Thousands of sailors lost their lives in the process.

Vital air cover was provided by the RAF at the British end and the US Air Force at the other end. Their range was limited however and the bit in the middle – known as ‘The Pit’ – left the convoy entirely at the mercy of packs of German U-boats who preyed on the slow-moving merchantmen.

Their only defence was a thin screen of British and American warships to protect from the undersea threat. One of these is the destroyer code named Greyhound, skippered by Captain Krause (Tom Hanks) whose job it is to lead the convoy through the hellscape of the Pit.

Greyhound is a classic ticking clock scenario. It takes 50 hours to traverse this deadly stretch of ocean and the film is segmented into four-hour watches with the clock ticking down relentlessly until the point when they come under the protective umbrella of air cover again.

The film is merciless in its pacing. There is a brief introduction in which Krause’s personal stakes are established and then we are straight into it. The film runs for 91 minutes – less if you discount the credits – and the pace is brutal.

There is no respite for these men and director Aaron Schneider ratchets the tension constantly in a very well-organised film. There is no sense of who these men are, there is no time spent on characterisation, but I didn’t mind that. I wasn’t too bothered about their backstories, but I was extremely bothered about whether they would make it alive.

The only one we know a little about is Krause. We know that he is a devoutly religious man – a trait lifted straight from the novel – and this means the film becomes a masterclass in minimalism from the unusually terse Hanks. He brings a moral dimension to the character which is not normally seen in such films; when his crew cheers 50 dead Germans, Krause quietly muses on 50 dead souls. I can’t think of a contemporary actor other than Hanks who could have carried this off.

Hanks is a World War Two buff – he was the producer of Band of Brothers (2001) and The Pacific (2010) and the appeal of the citizen soldier is obviously a strong one. Krause is another in the same mould as Damian Lewis’s Dick Winters in Band of Brothers, or indeed Hanks’ own Captain John Millar in Saving Private Ryan (1998). The sense of taking up arms as a civic duty plainly resonates with Hanks and it informs Krause.

We know from that brief scene at the start that he is a career officer who is now being given a chance to see active service after Pearl Harbor. He is not a conscript; this is what he dedicated his life to and there are few better at portraying the nobility of service than Hanks.

The action is non-stop and the computer effects are very good on the small screen to the point where they make you pine to see this on a big screen, but in the end it is the quiet humanity of Tom Hanks that stayed with me when Greyhound had run its race.

Hamilton does not miss its shot

Watching Hamilton live on stage is probably the single most rewarding theatrical experience of my life. Seated two rows from the front in the Victoria Palace theatre it was an absorbing, stirring, moving experience.

Watching Hamilton on Disney + is not the same but it remains a remarkable cultural experience. This recording of an original Broadway cast performance from 2016 is a powerful piece of work and now it is available to a much wider audience via the streaming platform.

Hamilton is the story of Alexander Hamilton, one of America’s Founding Fathers and the first Secretary of the Treasury, effectively the founder of the US economic system. It’s a show that attempts to answer one question:

How does a bastard, orphan, son of a whore
And a Scotsman, dropped in the middle of a forgotten spot
In the Caribbean by providence impoverished
In squalor, grow up to be a hero and a scholar?

The central tension is between Hamilton (Lin-Manuel Miranda) and Aaron Burr (Leslie Odom Jr). There is a Mozart/Salieri vibe to their relationship as Burr, the coming man, is overtaken by the young tyro coming up on the inside. This dynamic fuels the whole  story.

Whether live or on-screen Hamilton is a masterpiece. For me one of the definitions of genius is that the form is never the same afterwards and that is certainly true here. But one other hallmark of genius is the way it speaks to individual audiences regardless of time or place.

George Washington’s comment to Alexander Hamilton: ‘Dying is easy, living is harder’ was a good line in 2015 but it has a much more powerful resonance now. That for me is the genius of Hamilton.

The book, the music, and the staging are all impeccable and the show has the awards to prove it. What is remarkable for me is how the filming has brought it to life and given it a fresh dimension. In a lot of filmed stage shows the camera is a nuisance and the performers are often unsure of where to pitch their performance. Not here.

Thomas Kail, who directed the stage production as well as the film, never allows the camera to intrude, instead it illuminates. The general point of view is that of someone in a good seat in the stalls but there are about half a dozen sequences that have been restaged to give more emotional heft.

Kail does two clever things. The first is that he doesn’t go in for flashy cinematography; for the most part the camera only pushes in for medium close ups which preserves the basic theatricality. The second is that he retains the stage spacing for these staged sequences which allows the cast to maintain their original performances.

The bonus is in what these small cinematic interludes provide. We see the sweat glistening on Christopher Jackson’s stubbly head in One Last Time, the spittle-flecked spite of King George in You’ll be Back, and the sheer majesty of Renee Elise Goldsberry’s singing throughout. All of these are enriched by the filming process and makes it more than just filmed theatre.

The one surprise for me is the genius behind this work of genius. Lin-Manuel Miranda does not have the most remarkable of voices nor is he the most charismatic of actors. However, this is a performance unlike anything we have seen; this is a man who knows every note, line, and gesture of the show. The consequence is that he does not perform in the show so much as owns it. This is authorship at its finest and Miranda strides through the show with a performance littered with grace notes of which only he is capable.

Already there are strong suggestions that Hamilton, which was originally destined for a theatrical release, should be an Oscar frontrunner. A lot depends on the position that the Academy takes on the eligibility of streaming releases. Even if they give it the nod, I’m not sure that it is original enough to qualify as Best Picture. But Best Documentary would be a whole other discussion.

Will Ferrell's Eurovision take hits the spot

Will Ferrell is no friend of the marketing department when it comes to titling his movies. There is no doubt that his latest Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga – henceforth referred to as Eurovision - doesn’t exactly trip off the tongue. But it is worth the effort.

There seems to be a connection with the length of the title – Elf (2003) apart – and the quality of the product. Eurovision might not rank with the sublime jawbreakers Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy (2004), or Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby (2006), but it’s up there and is one of the best movies he’s done in a while.

There are moments in this agreeably daft movie when I laughed out loud and Lord knows we could do with a bit more of that currently.

It is the story of Icelandic singing duo Fire Saga, composed of Lars Ericsksong (Ferrell) and Sigrid Ericksdottir (Rachel McAdams) – probably not his sister. They aspire to enter the Eurovision Song Contest - Lars believes they have the talent, Sigrid suspects they need the help of the invisible elves who allegedly live in their town. The reality is that they are pretty dreadful and are only invited to the Icelandic Song Contest to make up the numbers.

Fate takes a hand and in a plot twist that owes equal parts to The Producers (1967) and Hot Fuzz (2007), Fire Saga end up representing Iceland in the Eurovision Song Contest in Edinburgh.

The lazy approach would be to send the whole thing up but Ferrell, who co-wrote with Andrew Steele, is smarter than that. The Eurovision Song Contest is beyond pastiche or parody; that’s why so many people love it and enjoy watching it send itself up year after year. Ferrell embraces the campness of it all. The opening number Volcano Man would not disgrace any Eurovision final.

Everything is played for real. Whether it’s the dubious Russian baritone of Dan Stevens, the spectral presence of Demi Lovato, and of course the knowing commentary of Graham Norton, it all pays off. I don’t recall a film recently where the cast seemed to be having quite such a good time while inviting the audience to share the experience.

Lars is another of Ferrell’s benighted man-child roles and again it is funny because he plays it with absolute sincerity, similarly McAdams as the butt of many of the jokes plays her role dead straight too. The running gag about their sibling status is immaculately handled with impeccable timing. The fourth wall is never broken, there are no nods or winks to the audience, this is done with steadfast earnestness which is why, although it could do with shortening, it works, for the most part, very well.

Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga is a little over the top in places, a trait which it shares with its real-life counterpart. However as the recently deceased Joel Schumacher was fond of saying: ‘Honey, no one ever paid to see under the top.’